


Strange, Not-quite, Bedfellows

by dapatty



Category: Life, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-05
Updated: 2009-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:15:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/pseuds/dapatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah gets help from an unlikely fellow....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange, Not-quite, Bedfellows

  
_"Everything's connected," he would say to her, his tone earnest, "But you gotta be here now. There is only now. You can't think of what comes next because it hasn't happened yet."_

But, she only ever thinks of what's happening next. She can't help it. Thinking of next is in her very nature. Running scenarios of possible outcomes to a minute from now to six months from now is exactly what she does. Even if she wants to not think about it, she does anyway despite everything.

She would often think of him later--that redhead with eyes so blue they hurt. Later when she couldn't sleep in the dead of night for her thoughts. Or when she's staking out another lead to fight the future. Or in the early morning sun with the smell of fruit on the air. Or with gun cocked and anger bright and shining before doing something reckless. Or right before she exhaled her last breath. Mainly when she thought of him, she could almost believe she wasn't alone. That the battle could be won, even when she's sure they've already lost.

He would sneak in, uninvited, and whisper in her head. Sometimes reassurances. Sometimes Zen nothings--he was really good at those. He's different than any other man she's ever known. He's not asked her to stay or told her to go.

"You should really get out of LA," he had said to her while she stared at him through the bars of her cell in hold-up.

Her dignity was sore at being caught for something as minor as a speeding ticket. She looked at him with nothing but malice, which didn't stop him.

"Take a trip and go somewhere else," he said conversationally. "Life is all about the journey, ya know. And it doesn't seem like you're going very far by hovering in a city where you're wanted for murder and quite a few other charges-some that are quite colorful."

She glared at him, outright. "And just how am I suppose to do that?"

"It's just a room," he said with a shrug, but his eyes looked haunted for a second. He cleared his throat, met her gaze and carried on, "Eight by eight. Concrete and iron. Just a room and a state of mind. You can be in a cell anywhere if you're not careful. But, Sarah Conner, you strike me as someone who already knew that."

She allowed herself a grim smile and said, "So do you Detective Crews."

She recognized him, of course. She wasn't stupid. Thank you very much. She may have jumped time and lived on the fringe of society, but she did try to keep track of current events. It was part of her war. A clue could reside with what's happening now and show her a way to stop the future. So, it was only natural that a cop who became a convict and was released after twelve years to become a cop again caught her attention.

Of course, the news was how he'd become aware of her too. He knew who she was and had heard some of her more outlandish sounding stories of a robot apocalypse because he does his research. He told her that much, later.

"In that case," he said, twinkle in his eye, "would you like a cup of coffee?"

Coffee apparently meant sneaking her out in cuffs in front of everyone and God and to Sarah's surprise no one but a short dark-haired brunette gave them a second glance--that glance being more exasperated or puzzled than anything else. She still was in shock at how easy it was when he opened the passenger door of his car for her and un-cuffed her wrists.

He drove them to a diner. She wasn't sure what she'd expected. Around the block and back to jail. Or to the federal prison down the road. Or to the looney bin.

"You weren't kidding about coffee, were you?" she asked, surprised. She had forgotten what it was like to take people at their word.

"Nope," he grinned and got out of the car. He leaned against the driver side door of that 'suped up Monte Carlo of his and waited for her. He was making it easy on her. She knew that. His back was turned and she could leave if she wanted.

She got out and walked over to lean beside him despite herself. She would tell herself later that she didn't seize the chance to cut and run because she didn't have her phone and couldn't call Derek, John, or even Cameron. A weak excuse, she knew. If she were being truthful, maybe it was because Crews made her feel peaceful.

"I don't sleep with cops," she had said and he laughed. Admittedly, he was unlike any cop she'd ever met. Something about his tone, the way he stood, the twinkle in his eye, the anger in his heart just didn't make him ring true, by-the-book, cop. Besides, she knows that normal cops usually don't help a woman slip out of custody mostly unnoticed.

"And I don't normally sleep with warriors," he said, smile glimmer on his lips. "I suppose you're out of my league," he spoke a touch wistful, hand reaching out to ghost her face. Something in the way he said it sounded sad and echoed loss.

"Let's just start with coffee," she said smiling a little. "And no talk about robots," she added for good measure.

"Fair enough," he smiled and it crinkled the skin around his eyes. "Sounds like future-talk anyway. All we have is now. Can't think of what comes next too much, or you miss now."

She knew that in that moment with him looking at her like she was a woman, a person, that coffee would just be the start if she let it be.


End file.
